Fragments


In totality, a mirror is a sum of its fragments.

In each fragment holds a reflection.

Fear if it refracts.


Days come by, and we want time to stop.

All hell might go lose tomorrow.

We just need some more time.


Tino and I am very much afraid for tomorrow. We still have no idea on how to tell Sealand about Mathias. It's literally eating us out. We need more time. We can't fathom on what would happen tomorrow.

Apparently, Peter was very ecstatic to return home, exclaiming that he would play with Mathias. Our hearts crumpled and were shattered. His voice was so happy, and yet tomorrow, it will break.

Lukas, on the other hand, seems to be reading still the diary, but with a scrutinizing gaze. Even I can't peek in the diary. I still found some revelations a few days ago quite repulsive. Even the snow, I abhor. We need to move on.

Tino's literally afraid of what would happen. More afraid than I am. Consoling my "wife", I told him that everything would be okay, more or less. But instead, he screams at me, saying that it really isn't.

I know I keep on deluding myself that it's alright, even if it literally isn't. Sighing, I proceeded to the mirror, seeing my reflection. Or, rather, a twisted reflection. I saw myself, covered in blood, with the same clothes during the bloodbath. Holding Mathias' head with my left, and his burnt flag with my right.

I immediately punched the mirror, grabbing to my instincts, afraid of the phantasmagorical image. Slumped on the wall, and my hand bleeding, I sigh again. I can't take much more. I need to do something.

Even carpentry doesn't take my mind off of things nowadays. I need Tino. Rushing to him, I embrace him tightly, afraid that I might go insane. His presence is my only incentive right now. Shocked, he hugs back, rubs my back and tells me to sit down and tell everything.

And tell everything I did. He was quite shocked too. Even the pain right now can't console me. We just need to wait for tomorrow.

The realm of phantasmagoria is quite surreal.

It's where he died, too.

I need to go back.


Hearing the mirror break, I shrugged it off. I placed the diary of Mathias on the table and proceeded to the steps of our veranda. Sighing as well, I felt tired. All these emotional burdens are quite tiring for me. Inwardly, I also fear for what Berwald fears.

That we might lose another one. I know we must prevent it, but it's like we have premonitions we can't.

Looking at the snow, I muttered under my breath something even I find quite inaudible. Standing up, I walk away for a while, trying to forget, even for a little while, the tragic accident.

It's not working. It's like Mathias lurks in every snowflake. His presence still lingers in the snow, as if he has not move on to the other side. It's like his ghost, wherever it is, is mocking me for my shortcomings.

Accepting the fact that I can't take much more of this, I immediately go back in the house. Emil's on the couch, staring at space, as if Mathias is there. Berwald and Tino's upstairs. I hope we all can cope well.

The little flakes of snow feels so heavy.

As if some malice resides in the air.

We can't anymore stall.

We must accept and move on.


Time Skip

It's the day. Tino and I rush to the airport in Oslo to fetch Peter. Upon fetching Peter, we met Arthur, sitting on a chair next to a flailing Peter. When Peter saw us, he immediately cannonballed himself to me. He was exclaiming a lot of stuff, including his hatred to Arthur and his wanting to play with Mathias. Again, our hearts break into pieces. Arthur, who what watching us, was now staring, as if we are hiding something.

Sighing, I signal Arthur to follow us. Agreeing with us, we immediately reached the parking lot and drove off to Lukas' house. The ambiance of car is so heavy, and so thick, that nothing can cut through it.

It was a very long trip, for such a short distance. Fearing the most awaited event, we arrived at Lukas' house, only for Peter to immediately rush inside and look for Mathias. While I went to chase Peter, I told Tino to tell some things to Arthur. Reluctantly abiding, Tino elicits his attention and whispers to him. Whispers the word I don't want to hear.

Running after Peter, I hear some shouts of "Bloody Hell!" and "Are you serious?!". Trying to shrug it off, I went on to Peter, only to find him going to me, asking where Mathias is. I told him to ask his Uncle Lukas, for he "might" have the "answers" he needs.

Going to Lukas, Peter immediately asks. Sighing, Lukas tell Peter straight-to-the-point about Mathias' whereabouts. At first glance, Peter laughs it off, finding it to be a joke. But when he saw Lukas' face, his own distorts. Screaming "What do you mean he's dead?!", he runs off, crying. I run to him, trying to console him. His denial of the truth is heart-wrenching. I know it's normal for a child to take something as a death of a relative as heart-breaking, but this, this is quite weird. His tears feel heavy against my chest. I can't withstand this. Consoling him again, I told him that it would be alright, lying to myself again.

A little later, Tino and Arthur arrive in the house, to find a crying Peter on my arms. Peter then runs off to Tino, asking if it was some form of cruel joke. Even Tino's face distorts at Peter's denial. Salvaging whatever Peter's strength has, Tino tells him to go upstairs with him for a talk. On the other hand, Arthur approached me and asked some things, including a question regarding on the others finding out. I disregarded that question and told him not to spread the word. It's not fair for the others to know without us moving on. Sure, Arthur was informed in advance, but we can't hide anything from him if he was to confront us.

Accepting the loss, he sighs with discomfort, telling us that we should be careful. Indeed we will be. I will not let this family crumble down to mere fragments. No. I will try to make this family somewhat whole again. And I will start, today, with Peter.


A child, scarred, reduced to mere tears and wailing.

Adults, mourning, reduced to mere pieces.

The mirror lines up again. Fragmented.

Some show reality, some show phantasmagoria.


This have not gone to what we wanted.

But was it really from the start?

We don't know.

The only thing we know is that

Tomorrow, from now on, will never be the same.


A.N.: Hello! And welcome to Fragments, the second chapter to Shattered!

Apparently, I somehow conjured this in a rush. I'm not sure if you'll like it.

But please read and review!

~LoverOfTragedies :)